


the weight of living (and loving)

by cloudburst



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Good times, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, like a lot of others - Freeform, poe has lots of feelings, sorta - Freeform, they both have something to say, they're on the falcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 02:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13308618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudburst/pseuds/cloudburst
Summary: Finn is bursting at the seams—knows what he needs to say, just not exactly how to say it. And to him, that is the greatest tragedy. He's seen enough people die in the First Order without having this opportunity, and here he is: tongue tied and nervous. He steels his resolve; he needs a pilot,needs this pilot.Finn and Poe have things they need to say.





	the weight of living (and loving)

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! just wanted to write some vaguely introspective, yet also fluffy (?) stormpilot
> 
> this is the first thing i've actually posted for star wars so i'm nervous ok bye

Until this moment—forehead pressed to the cool metal of the wall—he's never truly understood the purpose of introspection. The purpose of thought is its movement toward action; it is the catalyst for change, yet, right now all he can do is run to keep up with the ideas wreaking havoc in his head. He wishes to move forward with his hopes, to be the change he yearns for: the change he longs to see in his life, in the resistance. Yet, he cannot—for if it means loss, true loss that he understands, the gratification cannot be worth the cost. The cost of his desire would be to lose Finn, and he is worth far more than any fleeting wish to be loved in return. 

The weight around his neck is heavy—pulling him down, a force gravity could not compare to as he paces—noise of his footsteps creating a constant noise to physically depict his anxiety. It displays the anxiety he feels at the thought of relinquishing the chokehold he has on the ring hung around his neck, and in turn, on his heart. Yet, Poe knows to let go—pass the weight to another would be lightening and enlightening, all at once. And again, _no,_ not just to another—but to a specific individual, the one he is too afraid of losing to even think of securing a relationship. He's stuck in a paradoxical situation from which he can find no escape. His fear of Finn slipping away, being even slightly put off by the intensity with which Poe feels for him, it is enough to keep Poe believing that he must hold Finn at arm's length; he is close, but Poe wants him _closer, closer, closer._ He wants to squeeze the delicate thing tight to him without fear of fracture—wants to love without cracking apart. The only issue is, Poe has always had a habit of breaking his favorite things. He is exuberant. He knows that he is—laughing louder than the roar of a TIE fighter, smiling brighter than the sun, and loving with all of himself. It scares him. And Poe has fought many men, flown across the galaxy, but the thought of dashing his love for Finn to the ground till it no longer functions is not a thought he can bear. 

But he holds it—paces, and paces—smiling at those remaining rebels who ask: are you okay? He is not sure, as he paces, and paces. The Falcon was not made for a restless mind, just as it was not made as a refuge for a resistance. Yet now the ship finds itself harboring both: the best pilot in the galaxy and the remainder of its hope. Poe's hand comes up to clutch at the ring around his neck, a warmth seeming to radiate from it. In that moment, he realizes that he'd rather be broken than silent. He is loud, and vibrant in every other aspect of his life—wishes for Finn in his affections to regard him as not only the best pilot in the resistance, but as the pilot who stole his heart—the flyboy who loved as loudly as he flew. 

The loud thrumming of his heart is perhaps why he doesn't hear the footsteps. He doesn't notice the presence of another until a warm hand comes to rest on his shoulder from behind, and Finn's voice escapes: "Are you okay?" It cues a happiness in Poe, and he is _bursting_ with it—with the absolute affection he feels for the man he now turns to face, hand still clutching the ring gently. Finn retracts his hand, and Poe wants to say _No, it's okay. Put it back._ He doesn't, just looks at Finn with the intensity of a sunrise. "I wanted to check. A lot went down back there and I guess, you're always thinking of everyone else in your own way—" A pause for breath, Poe's hands go to his sides as he stares. "Anyways, how are you, really?"

And there are many things Poe could say; he's lost so many friends in the past week, the past few hours. A small voice in the back of his head rings, permeates to fill him with guilt— _it's your fault._ He pushes down the quell of emotion—tells himself he couldn't have known, and hopes that he continues to believe that. He could tell Finn that he is so far from okay that he's aching, falling apart, though that wouldn't be the truth. He wants to be broken over his losses—but he's grateful to be alive, to be breathing, to be able to look at Finn and think: _wow, I'm in love with him._ Poe elects to tell the truth. 

"All things considered, I'm doing okay, buddy." His hand fidgets by his side. He may be impulsive—may be brash and fearless and everything that so many aspire to be—but he will not be reckless in this. "But enough about me. How are you? How's Rose?"

There's a flash of something in Finn's eyes—a momentary lapse in the light, before he looks to Poe with a smile that could nearly be called sad. Finn's voice is soft, carrying only to Poe, as if he does not trust the Falcon to keep his secrets. "She's okay—she, she's a fighter. And Poe, she—" It seems like Finn is breaking, but his voice remains steady as he forces the chopped words out. "She made me realize something, when she saved me. Or, at least, she helped me realize."

And Poe thinks that this is it; Finn is in love. He tries to stop the ache that starts in the left side of his chest and continues throughout his whole self—tries to stop the weeds growing through his rib cage and constricting his lungs. He supposes it's melodramatic, to say that where Finn once grew gardens in his heart, Poe is imposing vegetation to destroy him. Where Finn once made stars burn hot in his chest and bright in his eyes, Poe feels cold. This is all without Finn saying a word—and Poe realizes he's farther gone than he'd originally thought. 

"She helped me realize that there are things in this galaxy worth staying alive for, and for me, you're that." A sharp breath—that's Poe—a flashback, a memory of Finn _needing a pilot._ He needed Finn, too, but Poe had always thought the difference was Poe had continued needing, no, _wanting_ Finn, while the other's need had ended. How silly, how stupid. Poe tries to speak, and he finds himself choking on his words. He's never been one to break under pressure, but this? It's different. So Finn continues, and Poe is powerless. "By that, worth staying alive for, I mean." 

Poe nods. "You too, buddy."

Finn smiles—genuinely; the corners of his lips turn up, and his eyes burn like the stars. "I'm not done, Poe. She said—" He trails off, and Poe doesn't blame him. 

Finn is bursting at the seams—knows what he needs to say, just not exactly how to say it. And to him, that is the greatest tragedy. He's seen enough people die in the First Order without having this opportunity, and here he is: tongue tied and nervous. He steels his resolve; he needs a pilot, _needs this pilot._ He needs Poe to understand. "She said we need to fight for what we love. I want to fight for you."

The Falcon does not swallow Finn's secret, but puts it on display for Poe to see in the small hall. It's a location of no consequence, and a tiny place—but for Poe, it holds the largest happiness. "Are you saying—"

Finn cuts him off, throwing caution out of the airlock. "I'm saying I love you. And I want to fight for you, always. I understand the strength of the word love and I understand that we haven't known each other for too long, but I—"

Finn never gets the chance to finish his sentence, is too busy being cut off by Poe's lips pressing into his with the thirst of a man who has never tasted fresh water. Finn's hand comes to rest on Poe's shoulders, and Poe thinks _wow, this is what I want, forever._ The sun is burning in Poe's chest, fire burning across his lips. He never wants to stop, but that's an impossibility that he embraces as he breaks from Finn to take a breath. He is winded—breathing heavily—but content like he has never been. The weeds retract from his ribcage and flowers bloom once more in the gloom left by the thought of Finn with anyone but him. 

He looks to Finn, truly looks, the smile on his face one to mirror Finn's own. "I love you, too." 

They come together again, Poe allowing himself to be gently pressed against the wall in the small walkway—the white noise surrounding them swallowing their sounds, eating away at their secrets until it is no longer a concern. It is gentle, with Finn's hands resting atop his shoulders. It is everything Poe has ever wanted—palms sweating like when he began to fly, at a mere six years old. He's now more afraid and exhilarated than he's ever been in the midst of a fight; an x-wing could never compare to this. And normally, he'd berate himself for that type of slander, but right now he can't bring himself to care. He's higher than he's ever been; this is faster than light speed, and he _loves_ it—can't believe he nearly let him rob himself of Finn, and all of the beauty that comes with him. 

They part, with Finn's hands still atop Poe's shoulders, and Poe looks to Finn like he hung the many moons across the galaxy—like he lit the fire to incite the stars to burn Poe's carefully placed walls down. Poe's voice carries like a whisper, but is meaningful in its intent. "I've wanted to do that for a long time." And he can't believe he was given the opportunity to say that, is alive and breathing and happy—so happy to be here with Finn, cramped in the Millennium Falcon with his world reduced to the size of a single ship. He'd have it no other way, as Finn nods—the smile that Poe has come to love intact across his features. 

"Why didn't you?"

Rapid-fire.

"I was scared."

A breath.

"Of what?"

"Losing more than I could stand."

And Finn understands—of course he does. _Because he's perfect,_ thinks Poe. _Because if anyone understands risk and reward, it's Finn—who revolutionized his own life and became the man many could only aspire to be._ The weight around his neck lightens, as does the weight upon his chest. There is so much hope in this—in him and Finn, in everything they could be. He extends the same hope to the resistance—to their future life of hopeful togetherness, extends it tentatively to everything, praying that this fragile thing between the two of them is meant to last in a world that slams careful objects against unforgiving surfaces. "Because—" Poe swallows, admission heavy. "I can lose everything, Finn, but not you." Somewhere, he feels BB-8 protesting that admission. 

"That's not happening, not any time soon." Finn takes the initiative, pulling Poe to himself. Poe lets himself be brought in—leans into Finn and takes it all in. He'd love to believe that—that Finn isn't going anywhere, that he can't because Finn is going to fight for his place at Poe's side just as Poe will do the same. 

So in that moment—the Falcon devouring their moment, hiding them from those who would seek to destroy them—Poe lets himself believe that this moment is the spark that will light the fire of the forever he wants to spend with Finn. He's never understood introspection until now, his thoughts having led him to a course of action—one he will never regret as he returns Finn's embrace. The weight around his neck, the ring, one day it will be gone. 

The Falcon swallows the sound as they kiss again. 

And for a moment, everything is beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what ya think!! if you liked or hated it, thank ya


End file.
